


Guardians of a rare thing

by Liviapenn



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, Alien Cultural Differences, Atlantis Team, Chromatic Character, Community: ronon_love, Episode: s03e10 The Return Part 1, F/M, Non-Canon Pairing, Protective Ronon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-17
Updated: 2008-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviapenn/pseuds/Liviapenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The instant the wormhole closed behind him Ronon knew he'd made a mistake. (Takes place after "The Return, pt 1," in an AU where Ronon came to Earth instead of staying in Pegasus with Teyla.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardians of a rare thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raisintorte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raisintorte/gifts).



> Written to a prompt from raisintorte in the ronon_love ficathon. Thanks to Sarah and Caroline for their thoughts &amp; listening, and to the Spike for helping me figure out the ending. Title from the Mountain Goats' "Riches and Wonders."

The instant the wormhole closed behind him Ronon knew he'd made a mistake. He should've stayed in his own galaxy, even if it meant planting crops with Teyla's people for the rest of his life. What he'd done, following Sheppard to his world... it had felt right. When it turned out you couldn't even trust the Ancestors to carry on the war against the Wraith, what could you depend on? He'd thought-- Sheppard. Weir. But suddenly, looking into this alien gateroom, these strange uniforms and this artificial light, everything felt upside down and backwards, and he knew that this journey was nothing but a retreat. The coward's way out.

But it was too late now. The only consolation was that Sheppard and Weir both looked as shell-shocked as he did. As lost.

It wasn't much of a consolation, but it was something.

* * *

Most of the people who'd been sent home by the Ancients had already left the base where the Gate was held. Over the next few days the rest went away, in small groups or one by one. McKay took a job at a research base somewhere. Beckett went to visit his family for a while. Weir just... left.

Sheppard spent a lot of time in meetings. Ronon hung out. The base had its own rhythm, its own feel-- every military base did. It wasn't so different from Atlantis, except that it mostly shut down at night; people didn't sleep there, they had homes outside. Somewhere else. Ronon didn't mind. He took to sleeping in most days, grabbing a quick breakfast after the day shift had already finished their lunch and cleared out of the mess hall. There wasn't space to run in the mountain the way there had been on Atlantis, but they had a pretty well-equipped gym and there was practically no one in it late at night.

That suited Ronon. They'd issued him clothes-- t-shirts and jeans like Sheppard's, sweats for working out. Sometimes he wore them, sometimes he didn't. But he still got looks in the hallways, whispers after he left the lunchroom. He let it slide off his back. He was new, a novelty, this week's gossip. They'd get over it.

Meanwhile, he did a lot of working out. For about a week he mostly practiced the bantos forms Teyla had taught him-- back on Atlantis the combination of mental concentration and physical exertion had been perfect, had let him get some sleep on days when his mind kept racing forever. But here in this strange galaxy whenever he shifted his weight, gripped the fighting-sticks, he kept feeling Teyla behind him, Teyla's eyes on him, and he couldn't stand it when he opened his own eyes and she wasn't there. Wouldn't ever be there again.

He took to lifting weights instead, practicing his punches and kicks on padded dummies and hanging bags. It felt good to actually hit things. Better than fighting his own thoughts.

Beckett had invited Ronon to come out with him. See a little of Earth. He'd promised that his mothers' cooking was better than base food. But Ronon had said no thanks. He'd seen Scotland on a map once, in Weir's office, as she'd showed him where different expedition members were from. It was a long way away-- across an ocean, halfway across the planet. It felt wrong, being that far away from the Gate.

He knew the Ancestors wouldn't change their mind and suddenly invite them back to Atlantis to stay. But Ronon still couldn't make himself leave the base, even when Sheppard invited him out for pizza or steak. He didn't want to go just yet. It would have felt wrong. Like he was leaving Atlantis, leaving Sateda-- leaving everything behind for good.

* * *

Ronon was bench-pressing about two-eighty one night when someone else entered the gym and settled on a bench, just within his line of sight. Nice of them. Ronon hated it when people sidled up in his blind spot. He sucked in air and glanced over. It was Carter. The one that had McKay enthralled by her brain. He'd only seen her in uniform before, the same drab shapeless gear as everybody else on base. She looked different in a light blue tank top and gray sweats, doing bicep curls with a forty-pound dumbbell.

She looked good.

Ronon blew out the breath he'd been holding and pushed the bar up, away from his chest. He held it there for a second, then another. If he'd had the breath to spare he would have laughed at himself. Thinking of McKay's dream girl like that. He'd have to tell him that sometime. Email or something and let him know.

Would be funnier to say it to his face, but that probably wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

"Two-eighty without a spotter?" Carter observed, her voice neutral.

"Don't need one," Ronon said.

"Well, I asked," Carter said, but she let it go. Ronon waited. After a while she spoke up again. "Colonel Sheppard told me when he arrived here that if he were assigned an offworld team, he'd want you on it."

Ronon pushed the bar up again and held it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Well, he's getting SG-18."

Ronon relaxed his arms, lowered and lifted the bar once more, then let it slide back onto the pins. He sat up and looked at Carter. She kept doing bicep curls, her rhythm steady, even. He wondered if Sheppard knew he was getting a team yet. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Well, it'll be General Landry's decision, of course. But--"

"Sheppard vouching for me isn't good enough," Ronon said. He felt tired.

"The General wants you to come on a mission with me, sometime next week," Carter said.

"With SG-1?" Ronon looked over, meeting her eyes for the first time.

"Not all of it," Carter said, still concentrating on her curls. "Teal'c has to make an address to the Jaffa high council, and Daniel and Mitchell are working on a... project. It'll be you, me and Vala."

Ronon hadn't met Vala, but even without actually participating in any conversations he'd already heard all the base gossip about her. He kind of got the feeling that there hadn't been anything as interesting in the mountain since the Earthers' discovery of Atlantis. Then he wondered what kind of mission didn't need anybody but a scientist, a pretty thief and-- from Landry and Carter's point of view-- a rookie soldier on his first trip around the block. He took a second. Trying to remember the saying Sheppard had used once, trying to convince Ronon he should stay off his wounded leg and not come on the mission with the rest of the team. "A milk run."

"Basically, yes," Carter said, semi-apologetically.

"Look," Ronon said, turning to face Carter full on, resting his arms on his knees so they wouldn't shake. "No offense. But it's like this. Sheppard earned my trust. You want me to follow him? I will. But I don't know you."

He stood, turning to go.

"You think we don't know that? That's the problem." Carter said. Ronon heard the dumbbell clunk on the floor as she set it down to come after him. "Landry is not willing to put someone out there whose only loyalty is to a man who-- speaking very frankly-- does not have a record of unquestioning obedience to his commanding officers."

"If you knew what it cost Sheppard to come back to this place," Ronon said, staring out into the dark, empty hallway, "you wouldn't say that."

Carter didn't say anything for a while. "Regardless," she finally said. "Sheppard isn't the issue here. You are."

"Fine," Ronon said. He turned around and looked at Carter. She didn't look anything like Weir-- small and muscled instead of tall and slim, eyes the wrong color, hair too short. But the look she was giving him now made him think of Weir. The way she'd used to come and sit by him in the mess hall. Five or six days in a row, once. No matter what time it was, early or late. Always saying, "Oh, Ronon, there you are," like it was a coincidence. He'd never spotted anyone reporting on his movements, either. She must have co-ordinated it well.

Never had a damn thing to say once she sat down, though. It was kind of endearing.

Not "kind of," he supposed. It had worked, hadn't it?

"You want to get to know me? Have dinner with me," he said to Carter, and her eyes went wide. "We can talk. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"Well--" Carter said, and Ronon grinned at her, a challenge. He saw her get it, saw the tight mirroring grin that flashed over her face before she cocked her head, giving him a more willing smile. "Well, all right."

* * *

He hadn't actually meant dinner outside the base. He'd been thinking of the mess hall. It was always open, except for a couple of hours after midnight, and this late it would have been relatively private. But he'd gone back to his room to wash up, change out of his sweats, and when Carter knocked on his door, she was wearing civilian clothes-- a knee-length black skirt with pink flowers on it, and a soft fuzzy black sweater with pearl buttons.

He'd said "Just a minute," and grabbed one of the white button-up shirts they'd issued him, slipping it on over his white t-shirt. He hadn't seen many Earth movies but that plus jeans seemed like a safe choice, even if they were going off-base. "This all right?"

"Yeah," Carter said. "Yeah, yeah. You look fine. Ready?"

He fell in behind her, following her to the elevator. They had him sign out twice and then again at the top level-- he hadn't ever signed out to go off base before and they looked at him suspiciously, even with Carter standing right there.

"We'll have to see about getting you some base I.D. to go with your passport," Carter said as they walked out, to a parking lot full of cars. Ronon took a second to look up at the stars. The sky was pretty clear, considering how close to a major city they were. Strange constellations hovered overhead, and he shook his head, following Carter. "So," she said, "you haven't actually been off base before?"

"Sheppard's been pretty busy," Ronon said defensively, but that made it sound worse, like Sheppard hadn't even tried to make time. "He offered," he said. "Beckett too. Before he left. Wanted to take me someplace called O'Malley's. I was..."

"Busy?"

"Didn't feel like it."

Carter's car was red. She unlocked it with a remote and they got in. Ronon fastened the safety restraint, remembering again something Sheppard had said once, in the front compartment of the puddlejumper: *buckle up, kids, it's the law.*

"Yeah," Carter said regretfully. "You should go to O'Malley's if you can. That place is great."

"We could go now," Ronon said.

"I can't." Carter wrinkled her nose as she started the car. It was a hell of a lot louder than a puddlejumper. Ronon had always figured the sound effects in the movies were exaggerated, and McKay had always said "Cars don't explode like that," but did this thing actually run on internal combustion? There were farming vehicles back on Sateda that still burned fossil fuels, but it seemed kind of unsafe to actually use them for everyday transport. With an effort, Ronon pulled himself back to what Carter was saying. "There was an... incident."

"An incident?"

"A minor... minor incident." Carter said, frowning, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her.

"What, you beat somebody up?" Ronon eyed her.

"I was under an alien influence," Carter said. "Mostly. Kind of. They deserved it."

She looked over at Ronon and grinned.

He knew what she was doing. Knew it was his turn next. Funny stories, embarrassing but not too damning. Be open enough to show that you were a good sport. Nothing that would hint at any serious errors in your judgment. Camaraderie-building time. The kind of thing McKay used to snippily call "team-building exercises." He wasn't wrong.

He wondered if Carter would be interested in hearing about all the times he'd shot Sheppard. Well, stunned him, anyway. She might not think it was funny.

Ronon still did, though.

"What?" Carter said. She'd looked over and caught him smiling. "You don't think I could hold my own in a bar brawl?"

"Maybe I should've asked you to spar," Ronon said thoughtfully. "Where I come from people used to say it's the only way to really know somebody." That hadn't really been a saying-- well, it was half of a saying. But Carter didn't need to know the other part.

"I make it a point not to fight guys eighteen inches taller and fifteen years younger than me if I don't have to," Carter said, a self-deprecating twist in her voice that made her sound like Sheppard for a second.

He opened his mouth to say *Teyla's shorter than you and she can*-- and stopped, instinctively, feeling himself on unsafe ground. He shook his head, hard. Felt Carter look over at him, and groped blindly for some other, safer topic. "Comes to that, I've been working on McKay. He's gonna start--" Ronon cut himself off. "He was. We were going to. Not now, I guess."

He shook his head again, staring out into the night, at the scrubby bushes and reflective signs flickering as the car slid past them in the dark.

* * *

A weird alarm woke Ronon from a sound sleep the next morning. It was louder than anything he'd heard on base before, and Ronon was on his feet, brandishing the knife he kept under his pillow before he realized it wasn't an alarm, it was the comm device by his bed. The phone. He growled at it, still half asleep. If someone wanted something, why not just come knock on his door? The phone went silent, then rang again. Ronon sighed, switched his knife to his other hand, and picked it up.

"What?" he demanded.

"Don't you *what* me!" McKay said furiously, and Ronon grinned, falling back on his bed. "Is it true? Did you go on a date with Samantha Carter?"

"I don't know," Ronon said, settling the phone more comfortably on his shoulder.

"Oh, don't even start with me, you--! This is not quantum physics! You did or you didn't! Oh, I should have known! I mean I *did* know, I knew that there would be absolutely no consideration of my feelings, my feelings of *considerable* long-standing, but I thought it would be Sheppard that would stab me in the back, not you!"

Ronon rolled his eyes. "Don't they have rules about that kind of thing?"

"Well, I just hope you two are happy together. For as long as it lasts. You know most of her boyfriends end up dead, don't you? Who knows, maybe you'll break the streak, you're awfully resilient, but I just think you should be fully informed--"

"McKay," Ronon said. "I don't think one date makes me her boyfriend."

"So it *was* a date!" McKay yelled so loudly that his voice fuzzed into static.

"I dunno," Ronon said. "I asked her to have dinner with me, we talked about stuff and I paid for the food. Is that a date?"

"I just cannot believe this!" McKay said, sounding gut-punched. "I feel deeply betrayed! And I want you to know that you couldn't possibly appreciate her on all the levels I can, and-- and I do! And on *her* part, my God, I can't even imagine what she's thinking! That-- that is to say, I can't claim I've never appreciated the superficial charms of-- of a physics groupie-- but--"

"Yeah, listen, I gotta go," Ronon said, because now someone *was* actually knocking at his door.

"Oh no no, don't you hang up on me!" McKay shouted, which made Ronon realize that you *could* actually do that and it would end the call, so he did.

Sheppard was standing in the doorway, rubbing at the back of his neck. He glanced up, startled, when Ronon opened the door.

"Sheppard," Ronon said, and grinned.

"Yeah, hey." Sheppard came in, looking around awkwardly like he'd never seen one of these guest-rooms before. As if he wasn't staying two hallways down in a room that looked just the same. "Listen, sorry I haven't been around much."

"You've been busy," Ronon said.

"Yeah. Well, I have. But hey, listen, buddy, we might be getting back into action soon. They, uh, they want to give me an offworld team." He gave Ronon a crooked grin. Ronon nodded back, understanding how he felt. It wasn't their team-- it couldn't be. It would probably be better than going stir-crazy down here in the mountain, but it wasn't going to be the same.

"Yeah, I heard," Ronon said. "SG-18."

"You heard," Sheppard said slowly. "Yeah, I guess-- That was the other thing. Um. I guess you've been spending some time with Colonel Carter lately?"

"Some," Ronon said.

"Yeah," Sheppard said, still obviously trying to read something in Ronon's face, in his posture. If Teyla had been there, she'd have known Ronon was bluffing. She'd already be laughing, Ronon thought, and just like every time he thought about her, or McKay, or Weir, or anybody else, it just made him tired. He broke eye contact with Sheppard and went back to sit on his unmade bed.

"It was just dinner," Ronon said. "We had dinner. McKay's freaking out--" he said, and grinned as Sheppard huffed out a laugh. "But she just wanted to, you know. Get to know me. Like Weir did."

Sheppard smiled, leaning back against the doorframe. "Yeah. Well, I hope she was a little subtler about it than Elizabeth was."

"Not much," Ronon said. "But Dr. Weir wasn't worried about me being *too* loyal to you."

That made Sheppard's head snap up, and he gave Ronon a sharp look. "No," he said. "No, I guess she wasn't."

"Beckett's getting back soon, isn't he?" Ronon said. "We should all go out. Maybe give Weir a call." He nodded to the phone. "See if she can make time. You think she'd like Vietnamese food?"

"Yeah," Sheppard said, "probably. Listen, Ronon."

"It wasn't a date." Ronon said.

"Oh, sure, I know that," Sheppard said, quickly enough to make it pretty clear he'd thought the opposite. "You know how it is on a base, though-- people talk."

"Yeah," Ronon said. "I know how it is."

* * *

"Hello, there, stranger," came a voice from behind Ronon, and he looked up from his scrambled eggs. Since he'd been awake anyway when Sheppard had stopped by, they'd gone for a short jog through some mostly-unused corridors, then stopped by the mess hall for breakfast. Seemed like there was more whispering than usual this morning, but maybe that was just because Ronon usually avoided any room with this many people in it.

"Hi," Ronon said. A long-limbed woman with dark hair in two long ponytails pulled a chair up to the table. She settled her elbows against the edge of Ronon's tray and propped her head on her folded hands. "Mitchell, darling," she said, glancing over her shoulder, "fetch me some juice and toast?"

"Eight months of grueling physical therapy with a bunch of doctors who said I'd never walk again, so I could be here right now and fetch your Majesty a piece of toast-- yeah, that sounds about right." Colonel Mitchell said. "You want it cut horizontal or diagonal?"

"Strawberry jam, if they have it," she called after him as he went, with a smile that looked bigger than physically possible.

"Vala," Sheppard said guardedly. "Morning."

"Oh, you're Vala," Ronon said, though really, he'd already guessed.

Vala turned her scary big grin on him. "You've heard of me!"

"I've heard *about* you," Ronon corrected.

"I'm sure you have," Vala said. "Speaking of rumors so lovely they simply must be true, can you confirm that you and Colonel Carter went off-base together last night and didn't get back until quite late?"

Ronon gave Sheppard a look. Sheppard shrugged and ate another spoonful of his disgusting-looking multicolored cereal bits. Ronon didn't even want to think about where the milk came from. "We had dinner," Ronon said. "She wanted to talk about putting me on an offworld team."

"Oooh, you should be on our team," Vala said. "We could use a really good-looking young man such as yourself. For all sorts of things really."

"Should I say dibs or give you one of those sexual harassment forms?" Sheppard asided to Ronon.

"You people do have a disturbing fixation on paperwork," Vala said, accepting her toast, jam and juice from Mitchell gratefully. Except for how she didn't actually say thanks. Unless stealing somebody's knife from their tray counted as thanks where she came from. "Samantha, good morning!"

"Hey guys," Carter said to Vala and Mitchell. She hovered oddly at the edge of the table for a second, then nodded at Sheppard and Ronon as well. "Colonel, Ronon."

"Colonel," Sheppard nodded back.

"Did you do something different to your hair this morning, Samantha?" Vala drawled.

"I brushed it." Carter said flatly, sitting down and stirring up her oatmeal with a look of real concentration.

"You and me gotta go to O'Malley's," Ronon told Sheppard.

"All right," Sheppard said, a little taken aback. "How come?"

"Carter's banned. Got in a fight."

Sheppard blinked. "What, last night? Jeez, Ronon! You--"

Ronon rolled his eyes. Mitchell was already laughing.

"It wasn't last night," Carter said. She was blushing again. "Nothing happened last night."

She'd blushed last night, too, when Ronon handed the waiter his bank card, and tried to protest, half-reaching for her purse. But it seemed pretty straightforward to Ronon-- he had asked her to come to dinner, so he should pay. Why would they have given him the card if he wasn't supposed to buy things? Carter hadn't argued, hadn't seemed offended, but maybe she had been. Other planets were always weird. Maybe Carter should have paid because she outranked him, and it could be seen as Ronon trying to curry favor with gifts. Or maybe it was because she was a woman, maybe Ronon should have let her pay half just to make it clear he wasn't expecting anything back. Maybe because she was older-- maybe it was disrespectful for a younger person to act like the provider. You always had to be careful with gifts. Teyla had told him that. No matter where you went, there were always different rules.

Anyway. Carter had blushed. It might have been the wine, or the spices in the food, but she'd only had one glass, and she'd said she liked spicy food. Whatever caused it, it looked good on her; she was usually pale as McKay. What Sheppard called 'monitor tan'. Probably never saw her own sun, and only ever got any fresh air out under alien skies. Blushing made her eyes stand out. Laughing made them sparkle.

Ronon looked away. Looked down at his eggs and bacon, then pushed the bacon over onto Sheppard's plate, finished up his juice and stood up.

"Later," he said, and walked off.

* * *

As the weeks dragged by it got better and it got worse. The new team was all right. Babbis was no McKay and Wallace was no Teyla, but Ronon was beginning to think that maybe someday he'd actually be able to trust them to have his back in a fight. Not that SG-18 was getting in any fights. They said there was a war on out there, but Ronon hadn't seen much evidence of it, not on the planets his team visited. They were on milk runs, still, and he wondered if that was Sheppard's fault, or his.

He got out more. He went out and got lunch with Beckett, sometimes, and sometimes he went off base with Wallace, to go jogging or hiking. Wallace was a quiet guy, and seemed to view spending time with Ronon as a social duty. The kind of thing you might do for anybody in your squad that didn't have any family-- for the kind of kid who joined up *because* he didn't have anyone to get letters from, or anyplace in particular to go when he was on leave. Distant, dutiful friendliness was fine with Ronon. He had Beckett, and Sheppard, and somewhere out there Weir and McKay, and he wasn't looking to make any more friends than that. Wasn't looking for anything deeper than that, either.

Sheppard took him out a couple of times and taught him to play pool at O'Malley's. They didn't get in any fights.

He ran into Carter in the mess hall sometimes. A little more often in the gym. His schedule was a little more regular, now that that SG-18 was on the mission roster. That was probably why.

They talked, sometimes. It wasn't much, and Ronon didn't really *want* it to be more. He still couldn't quite picture it-- that this would last, that he might start fitting in the way Vala or that Teal'c guy did, wearing Earth clothes and watching Earth tv shows. Knowing their songs and their jokes. Even if he did, he didn't know if it would ever be like a real place to him. Like a real home. Carter talked about Teal'c like he was family-- they'd been on the same team for eight years, he'd lived on Earth for nearly a decade. But he still had another home, somewhere else. He still had people. Earth wasn't really his home, any more than it was Ronon's.

He went on missions. He came back. He sat around in Sheppard's office while Sheppard threw darts or played his little handheld game thing. He read mission reports, and learned more about this galaxy-- about the Gou'ald and the Asgard and the Protected Planets Treaty, about the Tok'ra and the Jaffa and the things the Ancestors had left here. Sheppard had done this once, too. Had to learn it all in a couple of weeks. "And I didn't even know there was a Stargate before I got into all this," Sheppard said. "Or aliens, or spaceships, or any of that. So you're starting out even ahead of me."

At least it was your galaxy, Ronon didn't say.

He talked to Carter about it, sometimes. When they ran into each other. It wasn't often. Ronon didn't go around looking for her or anything. People noticed when you did that kind of thing. People talked. He got the feeling Carter wouldn't have liked that any more than he would.

But sometimes they had lunch together, and sometimes they worked out together. After a while Ronon even softened up enough to let her spot him when he was doing heavy lifting. Not that he needed it. But it made Carter feel better when safety protocols were observed. She said it just like that, too.

Fine, Ronon thought. Whatever. He didn't need her help. Didn't even really want it. He didn't want to... he didn't want to get used to having *anything,* here.

It would be too much like accepting he wasn't ever going to go back.

So it wasn't... it wasn't like everyone thought it was. (He didn't know how, didn't know why, but... after a while, everyone thought that they were-- whatever. Even though they weren't. Probably something to do with Vala. Ronon didn't see what else it could be.) It wasn't like that.

But it was something.

* * *

"You," Rodney said, pointing. It was the first thing he did, even before he'd entirely gotten out of the car-- the finger came out first, pointing accusingly, and then the rest of Rodney followed, clambering out of the backseat of the SGC towncar, glare fixed on Ronon the whole way. "I'm not speaking to you," he said, but Ronon grabbed him and squeezed him, practically lifting him off his feet, and finally Rodney grudgingly hugged back. "Oh, all right," he said, "but I still think you could have warned me. Just tell me to my face-- I don't think that's an unfair request. I mean, is that honestly the kind of thing you want me to hear from Bill Lee?"

"Sorry, McKay," Ronon said dutifully, and Rodney grumped, but he'd forgotten all about it by the time it came to order dessert.

But they hadn't even gotten to pick up the dessert menus before their cellphones started going off, one by one. Beckett hadn't brought his, and Ronon didn't have one-- he didn't like the idea of carrying a device that could be used to pinpoint his location-- so he sat at the table, already half-regretting that the waiter had taken his steak knife away when he'd cleared their dinner plates. He had one in his boot, too, of course, but it was small and utilitarian. Damn, Earth was making him soft.

"What is it?" he hissed at Sheppard. Sheppard shushed him, but Ronon could already tell from the look on his face; he hadn't really needed confirmation.

It was Atlantis.

* * *

"We got this data burst about twenty minutes ago." Landry said, and showed them the recording of O'Neill and Woolsey, under attack and demanding evacuation. They hadn't made it to the Gate. "How the hell did this happen?"

Maybe it had been McKay's alteration of the Replicator base code, but -- "How it happened doesn't matter." Sheppard said. "The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

"That's why I called you in," Landry said. "I have my orders, and the Daedalus is on its way. Now, what I need from you is this: what's the best way to get a nuke past the shield?"

Beckett looked stunned, Weir frowning and indignant, and Sheppard just looked grim. Ronon looked at Carter. She was staring John down. Aligning herself with Landry.

"If they take Atlantis, they'll be knocking at our door next," she said.

"Which is why we have, what's it called?" McKay snapped. "Oh yes, an *iris*--"

"Yes, we do," Landry said, "but thanks to your gate-bridge, all they have to do is rewrite your macro and they can come out anywhere in the Milky Way."

"But--" McKay began to protest. Carter was already shaking her head.

"No, Rodney," she said. "If they can--"

"But we can't just--" Weir protested, desperate enough to interrupt, to try to talk over Carter and Landry, like she could erase what they were saying.

She couldn't.

Ronon got up. Walked out.

* * *

Somehow they all found themselves in Sheppard's office. Ronon kept clenching his hands into fists and making himself relax. They'd work this out, they had to, and then somehow they *were* and it would *work*-- He never remembered who spoke first. Whose idea it was. It didn't really matter. They were together on this. All of them.

"We'd need a jumper," McKay said.

"...and some of those ARGs." Sheppard added.

"And someone to make sure Landry doesn't close the iris on us," Weir finished. She glanced at Ronon, suddenly. "You haven't said anything, Ronon."

"I don't work here," Ronon said, meaning that he wasn't the one that was going to get charged with gross insubordination if this didn't work out, but more than that, too. It was nothing but the truth. He'd promised to follow Sheppard and Weir, not the SGC, and he'd told them that. She'd always known. He'd never-- he'd never misled anyone here about his loyalties.

Sheppard clapped him on the shoulder. "Think you could round up some gear for Elizabeth and Carson?"

"On it," Ronon said, and headed out.

* * *

He'd stashed the extra vests and BDUs in his everyday knapsack, trying not to look suspicious. The offworld gear took up a lot more room than his workout clothes and towel, but Ronon felt like he had at least enough credibility on the base to tell most people to fuck off if they wanted to look in his bag.

He was about halfway back to Sheppard's office when Carter came hustling down the corridor. Her eyes flashed to meet his for a bare second and then she looked straight past him, avoiding his gaze. Ronon stared straight ahead, and didn't move aside to let her by-- if Carter didn't want to acknowledge him, she could damn well walk around him. Carter didn't swerve-- she slammed her shoulder into his side, stumbled, and dropped something small and plastic that clattered quietly on the floor.

Ronon stopped, looking down. A plastic card with Carter's picture and a barcode on it was leaning against his boot.

Carter was standing two steps behind him, facing away. If Ronon took two steps back they'd be shoulder to shoulder. "Hm," she muttered, and began patting her pockets down, curiously, without any particular sense of urgency.

Ronon didn't look back again. He bent, slowly, and palmed the ID card, slipping it inside the bracer around his wrist.

"Well, gosh," Carter said, in a funny voice Ronon had never heard her use before. "I must've dropped my pass. That's not good. Someone who found that card could use it to get into the storage area where they're keeping the puddlejumper." She was sounding more like herself now, slipping into that perky way she liked to explain things, like she just loved it when things made *sense*. When they fit. "And because the puddlejumper has its own DHD, someone could easily--"

Ronon turned, pulled her around by the shoulder, cutting her off mid-word. He pushed her up against the wall and stood there, staring, his hands tight around her shoulders. Carter's cheeks were flaring, bright red, and the look in her eyes-- she was pissed. Furious. Ronon grinned, seeing the match of his own frustration and anger in her eyes, and Carter was just starting to grin back when Ronon bent, dipping his head low to kiss her hard, on the mouth. It wasn't a good angle. Wasn't a very good kiss. Ronon stepped on Carter's foot when he tried to get closer, and Carter knocked her forehead against Ronon's when she went up on her toes, bracing herself against the wall.

It wasn't very good to *start* with. It got better fast.

"I--" Ronon began, pulling back, and Carter put her hand over his mouth, fast. She shook her head, lips pressed together, and Ronon understood. They'd ask if she'd conspired, with Sheppard or any of them, and if she didn't say anything, she could say no, honestly. Could swear to it. They hadn't said a word to her. She hadn't told them a thing. Ronon nodded, once, and Carter smiled helplessly, then slipped her hand under his dreads, curling around the back of his neck, and kissed him again. Slower, this time. Like they had plenty of time.

They didn't. Ronon broke away. Carter was panting like she did after a session in the gym on one of the stationary bikes. Ronon wished he could have said something. Something cool, something memorable. But he didn't know what he would have said even if he could have. He gave her the best salute he could, which probably wasn't very good since he hadn't really been paying attention when anyone else did it. From the way Carter's eyes widened he guessed it was pretty terrible, but she firmed up her chin and did it back, crisp and sharp.

He walked away from her again. The sharp corners of Carter's ID card poked into his skin, pressed there by his wristband. It would probably leave marks.

Ronon's heart was pounding. They were really going to do it. It was really going to work out. Maybe it was hopeless, maybe there was nothing to be done, but he was going. They were going home.

[end]


End file.
